


ooh, I love my ugly boy

by devonthemenace



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: M/M, all wedding cakes are valid, basically roald and devon are in love and stewart gets increasingly frustrated, devon is a suburban white mom, it got smutty idk how it happened, meth is one hell of a drug, roald finds a duckling, some casual dick riding, some fucking in a treehouse, some methed out baking, some mild ass eating, this was from a tumblr prompt, three little skid adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devonthemenace/pseuds/devonthemenace
Summary: prompt: roald and devon being idiots. thats all i need in life. roald and devon finding a duckling that imprinted on them and roald wanting to keep it, but stewart says no and devon keeps it out of spite. devon finding an abandoned treehouse in the woods somewhere and dragging roald along to help decorate it. these two assholes (whom i Love) deciding that they need a five pound bag of sugar but when they get back home forget what they were gonna use it for so they bake w itaccidentally became porn? title from ugly boy by die antwoord





	ooh, I love my ugly boy

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by @dazedsam on tumblr. sorry about the porn, it got away from me a bit.

"Tell that fucking thing to leave us alone."

It was a Friday afternoon, and Devon, Roald and Stewart were ghost riding some bikes they had found behind the No-Frills into the river. While they were down there, they had encountered a small baby duckling who had lost his family. Roald had insisted on playing with the thing, and now it wouldn't leave them alone.

"But it's so cute! He thinks I'm his mom. Devon, don't you think that's cute?"

"I don't know," replied Devon. "I don't think I'm ready to be a father."

"Intolerable! I won't have a fucking duck in my house. I'm putting my foot down," Stewart all but shouted.

"Please, Stewart! What harm is he going to do? He's a baby." Roald stared down at the duckling with love in his eyes. Devon couldn't help but stare at Roald with the same expression.

"No. Fuck you. No duck."

"Fine," Devon interjected. "We'll put an end to this now, then. Roald, come on. Let's go bring him back to the river."

"Alright, fine." Roald sighed dejectedly. "Let's take you home, Roald Jr."

"I'm going home. I'm not dealing with this waterfowl bullshit anymore." Stewart walked off in a huff, and Roald bent down to pick up the duckling.

"Okay," Devon began. "Now that he's gone, here. Put him in my bag."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. He's being a dick. Besides, you make a pretty sexy duck mom."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Maybe also the weirdest."

"Yeah, yeah, I can be sweet when I want to. Just don't get used to it."

"Uh-uh. Don't try to take it back now, Devon, you big softie. You love me."

"I never said that."

"Yeah, but you do." 

"...Fine, maybe I do."

"I knew it. You're going to make a fantastic duck dad."

"Shut up, Roald."

"I love you too, by the way."

They managed to fool Stewart for about a month. One day, though, the duck escaped from the guest bedroom after Devon had left the door open and waddled down into the basement.

"Roald. What the fuck. Explain yourself."

"It's Roald Jr."

"Yes, I can see that. Why is he in my basement? I specifically said no duck. Did I not make that clear? I can't believe you disobeyed my specific orders not to-"

"Actually," Devon cut him off. "It was my idea to bring the duck home, if you're going to yell at anyone."

"Aw, look, Roald Jr! Your papa is standing up for me."

"For fuck's sake, you two are unbelievable."

* * *

 

"Tell me again why we need to do this?"

"Because, Roald. Imagine it. You and me, sitting in our tricked out, super fucking sweet secret treehouse. There are festoons on the walls-"

"Nice use of the word festoon," Roald interjected.

"And posters and shit. Somewhere nice in the middle of nature where it can just be us. Somewhere to fuck where Stewart can't just walk in."

"Okay, but why do we have to decorate it? And do we really need a whole wagon full of decorations for a spot where we're just going to fuck?"

"Well excuse me," Devon said, starting to get annoyed. "I just want a little atmosphere. I want it to be cozy."

"Okay, fine, I just didn't know you cared so much. Unless you don't just want to fuck. Oh my god. You want to _make love_ to me."

"Fuck off. No one said anything about 'making love' or any of that sappy bullshit."

"Okay, but you may as well have. You're turning into a suburban old lady. Next thing you know we'll be having quiet sex in the missionary position every Thursday at 9 pm."

"Well, if you're going to make fun of me then you can just leave."

"I'm not making fun of you. I think it's cute. I love that my boyfriend is a PTA mom."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious! It's sweet. You're sweet. I know you think that's a big secret, but you don't fool me."

"We're here, now pick up a hammer and start decorating before I change my mind about loving you."

In all, they spent about three or four hours decorating the treehouse. They put up posters and garlands and everything else they had found in Stewart's garage. They also put down a few electric lanterns they had dug up that Devon had bought at a flea market a few years ago. By the time they were done, there was only one thing left to do. Devon grabbed Roald by the waist and kissed him, slower and softer than he ever had. Roald's whole body melted at the touch. As Devon began slowly undressing him and kissing his way down his body, Roald silently cursed himself for ever making fun of this. Devon pulled out a sleeping bag he had stored in the wagon and set it on the ground. He lowered Roald down onto it and managed to get his own clothes off as well. He pulled out a condom from the pocket of his overalls and slung one of Roald's legs over his shoulder.

"Is this okay? Do you, um... Need me to... Fuck it."

"Well, ideally you should be- Oh. Oh my god." Roald felt Devon's hot tongue slipping inside of him. "This is new. Jesus Christ."

"Should I stop?"

"No, fuck, no. I'm good, this is good. Really."

"Okay. Just... tell me when you're ready, okay?"

"Okay."

After a solid five minutes, Roald couldn't take any more. Both their cocks were already leaking with precome by the time Roald whimpered out the first words that came to his scattered brain.

"Fuck. Now. Please."

Devon's face was red, his eyes blown out with desire. His hands shook as he opened up the condom and slid it onto his length. No matter how many times he saw it, Roald was always impressed by the size of it. Everyone always talked about how big Stewart was, but Devon was nothing to scoff at.

"Wait, wait. I want, um... I want to ride you if- if that's okay."

"Shit. Yeah, of course that's okay. Here, hold on."

They repositioned themselves so that Roald was on top of Devon. Devon let out a shaky breath as Roald lowered himself onto his dick, nearly splitting himself open in the process. Once he got comfortable and adjusted himself to the feeling, he began rolling his hips, grinding down at what he knew was just the right angle to hit his prostate.

"Oh my god," Devon choked out. "Why do you look so good right now? Fuck. You're fucking beautiful, you know."

"Shut up."

"Okay, kitten." It was a nickname Devon knew got the better of Roald.

"Fuck. Fuck you."

"I'd say you're doing a pretty good job of that right- oh _Christ_."

"Fuck, Devon, I don't think I'm gonna last much longer."

"It's okay- _fuck_ \- neither am I."

True to their word, it was only another minute before Roald was shivering and cumming all over Devon's chest, which sent Devon over the edge shortly after. After they were done, Devon attempted to clean himself up with his tank top- he supposed he didn't really need to wear it anyway. Roald, on the other hand, promptly laid down in the sleeping bag and nearly fell asleep. Devon scootched up behind him and wrapped himself around his smaller body.

"You were right."

"About what?"

"That was better. With the... _atmosphere_. I love you."

"I love you too."

"And don't forget... Little Bobby's school fundraiser is next week."

"Fuck you."

"I already did, remember?"

When they woke up the next morning, they both had 14 missed calls from Stewart.

* * *

  
"Okay. Alright. What the actual fuck is this? I only left for two hours."

"Stewart! Hey, Devon, Stewart's back!"

"Stewart! Don't touch anything, everything is where it needs to be."

"Explain yourselves."

"I think it's pretty obvious, don't you think Roald?"

"Yeah. We cooked up a new batch of meth and we needed to see if it was good."

"Obviously."

"So, we smoked a bunch of it and got this really good idea. So we went to No-Frills and bought this huge, giant bag of sugar."

"But," Devon began. "By the time we got home we totally forgot what the plan was."

"Totally forgot! Poof! Out of our heads."

"So we knew we needed to use the sugar for something."

"If you leave it too long it gets ants, y'know?"

"Yeah. So we decided to bake a cake. But then we decided, okay, a cake is fucking boring. Why don't we make something awesome? So we decided-"

"Get this. This is the best part."

"We decided to make like... A fucking wedding cake."

"A wedding cake! I've always wanted to eat a wedding cake."

"Okay... But, no one is getting married. And you're ruining my kitchen."

"First off, nobody needs to be getting married to have a wedding cake."

"Yeah, christ Stewart."

"And second, we can clean up when we're done, fuck, are we not allowed to have fun? Are we not allowed to just be in love and bake a cake? This is homophobia."

"Homophobia at it's best. And cake-racist."

"Fully cake racist. A wedding cake doesn't need to be at a wedding to be valid."

"Alright, Jesus, fine... I'll be downstairs. Just... try not to completely destroy the kitchen."

What they ended up making was less than spectacular. It had three tiers, and they had gotten lazy with the frosting halfway up. What started out as beautiful piped roses had turned into unsightly pink blobs. There were patches on the top two tiers that were entirely unfrosted.

"This cake is beautiful."

"So fucking beautiful."

"Shall we cut it?"

"What?"

"Well," Roald started to explain. "We need to cut it together. It's our wedding cake."

"Oh, so we're getting married?"

"Well, one day. Yeah."

"I fucking love you."

"I fucking love you too, now let's cut into this cake before I start eating the walls."

The cake turned out to be delicious. Devon had picked up a lot of baking tricks from his aunt and older sister. After they ate the first piece, Roald stood up.

"What are you doing?"

"We have to have our first dance, duh."

Roald grabbed his phone and put on the first slow song he could find. They closed their eyes and danced with their chests pressed together and Roald's head on Devon's shoulder.

They never did end up cleaning the kitchen.


End file.
